Chapter 3
KILLA
I glance around the table in church. This is where I feel at peace, a unity among men, a brotherhood once created in blood, now forged in loyalty. Each one of us has dedicated our lives to our club, and it makes me damn proud to sit around the table with the other club officers.
Our prez, Savage, sits at the head of the table, twirling the gavel in his hand.
Not only is he a damn good leader and brother, but he’s also my cousin.
We have Unholy blood running through our veins, born into this life through no choice of our own, but we remain in it, creating a legacy to be proud of.
When our fathers passed, we were fortunate enough to be men with a new purpose in mind for the club.
Gone were the days of the old MC where ol’ ladies were ill-treated and abuse was rife within the club.
Savage created his own bylaws, creating stronger morals than the bullshit ones we endured growing up.
Stella, Savage’s sister, stuck with us, and so did our cousins, Dagger and Malice, each of whom was born in the Unholy world to complete and utter bastard fathers no better than our enemies, the Vipers.
The clicking from Hunter’s laptop pulls me from my thoughts, and I quickly descend into my usual trail of thinking. Does he have news for us today?
For months now, every time I come into church, I stare at the back of Hunter’s laptop, hoping and praying with every fiber of my being that he has some answers for us.
Since the day we received a tip-off from the O’Connells—a prominent Mafia family in New Jersey—I’ve hoped some of the questions would finally be solved.
My mind wanders back to that very day that changed my life.
My ass barely touches the seat before Savage slams the gavel down on the table. “Got some important shit to deal with, so shut the fuck up,” he barks, and points toward Hunter.
Hunter pushes his chair back and stands. It’s only now I realize we have a television in the room, sitting on a cabinet that doesn’t belong here. He drags it closer while our dumbasses remain seated, all probably as shocked as the next that something different is happening.
Not one of us stands to offer to help him, so he swipes the beads of sweat from his forehead and glares back at us. “You lazy fuckers,” he grumbles, which makes me chuckle.
He takes his seat again and clicks on that damn laptop of his, and when he does, the television comes to life.
“Is it porn?” Abs grins, practically bouncing in his chair, and I shoot him a look of contempt. Damn obvious we won’t be watching porn. I’m guessing surveillance video of some sort.
“No! It ain’t fuckin’ porn,” Savage bites out, with a tone he doesn’t use often.
It’s bitter and full of disgust. My spine straightens as a little blonde-haired girl comes into view on the screen.
She has to be around eight, lining crayons up in some sort of liquid while panting noises take place in the background.
The camera moves to the side, and the liquid gleams as it does.
“That blood?” Raider asks.
“The kid is lining crayons up in blood like it’s nothin’,” Slash states.
As the camera turns slightly, a man in a suit comes into view, the one making the panting noises. The woman he’s fucking over an expensive-looking desk is dead, her throat slit, and the kid is playing in her blood, like it’s an everyday occurrence.
For some reason, I’m grateful I couldn’t see the kid’s face.
I don’t want that searing into me so deep it’ll never let go.
I’ve witnessed too much childhood trauma, and it feels like there’s no escaping it.
It’s like you’re suffocating from their pain, and even worse when it’s your own face reflected at you.
The camera falls to the floor, and the person behind it moves, and when she does, every cell in my body pulls tight, and the room feels like it’s spinning. I’d know that person anywhere. She’s the other half of me.
Holy shit.
No.
“Is that Alisha?” Malice chokes out, and I scan over her cut, the one with our patches.
My mouth goes dry, and my heart lurches. All I can do is nod.
The man pulls out of the lifeless woman and tucks himself away before smacking Alisha hard across the face, and a pained sob whooshes from me. Someone hurt my sister. Hit her.
“This is old. She’s young here, Killa,” one of my brothers points out, but I simply nod.
He’s right; this footage is old. It has to be at least five years old, and my sister has been perfectly fine since then, but it doesn’t stop me from hurting.
The man who hurt her is a dead man walking, but we barely get a glimpse of his face.
The screen goes black, and when it flickers back on, it’s of a young boy’s tear-streaked face.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Dagger spits out, pushing out of his chair and tugging on his hair.
“Sit the fuck down!” Savage demands, and we all wait in stunned silence for him to take his seat again.
Once Dagger is settled, the film continues.
I hadn’t even realized Hunter had paused it.
“It’s a bunch of snippets sent to us because Oscar O’Connell recognized our logo,” Hunter says, and I’m grateful for his tone not being the least bit accusing.
Like it or not, Alisha is into something deep, something sinister, and she’s missing.
“Where’s this kid being held? Looks like a basement or something?” Slash seethes from across the table. “We need to fuckin’ help him. Look at him!”
“He looks terrified,” Warrior says in a cold, deflated voice, and my stomach twists with the same thought and feeling.
“I’ve already sent a copy to law enforcement,” Hunter says, and panic ravishes my bloodstream. “Minus the scene with Alisha,” he tacks on, settling my throbbing veins. “Carson has informed me it’s part of a human trafficking ring they’re investigating.”
“Jesus,” I rasp, and my stomach rolls with nausea. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Alisha?
My sister is lost. So damn lost in her trauma and addictions; I worry the only way out for her is death, and I can only hope that won’t be too painful when the time comes.
Maybe then, she’ll finally be at peace?
The camera pans out, but the kid remains frozen on the screen. A harrowing image I can’t unsee. A reminder of the evil in this world and how we unknowingly live among it.
A cruel world full of secrets and lies.
“Got that run down in Florida this weekend. We ready, Killa?” Savage cocks an eyebrow at me, and I give him a curt nod.
“Yeah, we’re good. Morgue, you’re leading the van.
” I tip my head toward Morgue, one of our enforcers, and he gives me a swift nod.
He barely says a damn word and spends the majority of time hidden behind his dark, messy head of hair.
He doesn’t so much as blink in the club whores’ direction, let alone touch any of them.
They learned early on to leave him be; he isn’t interested in what they offer.
I’ve never seen him with a woman, and I don’t think I will anytime soon.
The man is too fucked up from his past to be interested in anything they have to give.
Can’t say I blame him.
They haven’t been too appealing to me either lately.
“Hunter, did you find out anything about the little bitch Killa ran into yesterday?”
That’s why we’re here. I lean forward in my chair, eager to snatch the slip of paper from Hunter’s thick fingers.
His eyes meet mine and shimmer with sympathy.
Jesus, I hate that look, seen it so many damn times over the past couple of years and can’t bear to see it anymore.
I glance away and swallow back my reaction.
“Yeah. Got an address.”
That piques my interest.
Savage bobs his head and waves the gavel around. “Anythin’ else?”
Hunter strokes his jawline. “Only a name, Cassidy Steel.” He lifts an eyebrow, as if mocking. However, learning the bitch’s name makes it seem much more real. I have her.
“Working on finding out more.”
I want to tell him to work quicker, to work until he uncovers every fucking thing there is to uncover about her.
But without a doubt, Hunter will do his best while trying to help run our businesses.
He doesn’t just run our tech; he’s our treasurer, and trying to balance our books as a legitimate business, which is essentially a cover-up for the guns and drug racket we run can be somewhat tricky.
The last thing we want is a fuckup or the pigs up our asses.
“Good.” I sense Savage’s gaze on me, so I turn to him. “We give you this address. I don’t want no trouble at the door. Ya hear me?”
My body is alight with retribution, vibrating with the excitement thrumming through my veins.
He doesn’t want the law involved, and I get that. With a brother behind bars already, he doesn’t want another one there.
“Hear ya,” I say, almost too quickly, given the way his eyes narrow in on me.
Savage sits forward. “We do this the right way.” He stabs his finger on the wooden table. By the “right way,” he means extract information carefully without having the pigs on our backs.
“Got it,” I state, trying to act cool when the inferno inside is intensifying.
Savage stares me down before he exhales and tips his chin toward Hunter. “Go with him.”
My shoulders droop, and I want to ask him if he thinks I’m a goddamn toddler who needs supervision, but I realize he’s doing this for my own good.
Always having our backs.
Savage slams the gavel on the solid wood, ending church. “Ride till we fall! Unholy to the core!”
Hunter pushes up out of his chair, and I follow suit. Our heavy boots thud, causing the wooden floor beneath us to vibrate as we head toward the door.
“Oh, and Killa?” I turn to face our Savage. “Don’t scare her too much.” His lip curls, and I wink back at him with a chin lift, while the brothers erupt into fits of laughs and hollers.
“Time to have some fun, brother.” Hunter slaps me on the back, with a smile mirroring my own.
“Vengeance is mine.”